Leo shook his head as he bit into the small warm loaf. “All quiet but he’s definitely a prisoner, Jewd. Otherwise he wouldn’t remain in a place like this. He’s too vulnerable there.”
“Kilt wouldn’t even stay at an inn if he didn’t have to. He definitely wouldn’t linger in a private house, especially the one being used by Vulpan.”
“I wish we knew more about him.”
“We know he’s dangerous.”
“But he’s no threat to Kilt. He’s not interested in him, surely?”
“I wouldn’t think so but my gut tells me something’s wrong. He shouldn’t still be there.”
They were sitting on the porch of a small dincherie that was open all hours and was conveniently opposite the house under scrutiny. As Leo sighed at Jewd’s comment, and reached to refresh his mug of dinch, riders galloped into the relative silence of pre-dawn.
“Lo’s bollocks!” Jewd exclaimed. “They’re going in.”
Leo blinked and stared, feeling his emotions wrenched back a decade. “Jewd, that’s Stracker.”
Jewd dragged his gaze from the house to his companion. “Are you sure?”
“He is unmistakeable. Look at him. Do you think that’s a man I’d forget?”
Jewd shook his head. “I’ve always wondered what he looked like. He’s as big as I am.”
“And far more ruthless, I can assure you. He hasn’t got a single bone of empathy in his body.”
“We’ve got to get Kilt out of there.”
“What can we do?”
“For now we watch. If they’re genuinely imprisoning him, they’ll move him from the house, which is not an ideal jail. When they move him, we have to act.”
“Us against all those guards?”
“I’ve come prepared.”
“For what?”
“A diversion,” Jewd replied cryptically. “Keep watching,” he growled, “I’m going to get our horses.”
Kilt was led out of the room he’d been locked into by a new set of guards. He was disheveled and hungry but, more pressingly, disrupted by lack of sleep and the anxiety that with each slow passing hour Lily moved further from him. He was slightly comforted by the knowledge that she was traveling with Felt but confused about why she was pretending to be his wife. Something must have scared her, forced her into the disguise. He had to find her and apologize for asking her to play a role that should have been given to one of his men.
The guard banged on the door to Vulpan’s salon. “Come in!” Vulpan called and Kilt was marched in to be confronted by a powerful man proudly bearing his tatua with a warrior-like air.
“Pastor Jeves, may I introduce our revered General Stracker.”
Stracker! Kilt had to hide his natural inclination to balk. “General Stracker,” he said, bowing his head, glad to hear his voice was steady, “I’m honored.”
“Why?” the general snapped.
Good question. “Your reputation precedes you, general. Why, only a few moons ago my village greeted you. In fact, you stayed overnight during our Harvest Festival.” Kilt remembered hearing on the tall grasses of Stracker’s visit south. Word had bubbled up to the north that he acted every inch a royal, expecting hospitality without payment for him and his men.
Stracker grunted. “So why has Vulpan got you trapped in his web, eh?”
Kilt adopted an air of innocence. “I’m waiting to hear all about it myself, general. We shall have to ask him; I can’t fathom why I’ve been detained. Has he told you I’m trying to find my sister, sir?”
“He has. And we’re certainly interested to catch up with her too.”
Kilt’s stomach clenched. “Why’s that?” He frowned, looking perplexed.
The general picked at the debris of what looked to be the remains of a breakfast. He threw a fig into his cavernous mouth, chewing while he spoke. “Well, firstly, she’s apparently married to a man we’re looking for.”
“I see.”
“How long have they been married?”
Kilt shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. I learned of her marriage only recently and I have no idea when it occurred. I’ve never met the man. Perhaps Master Vulpan explained my situation—?”
“He did. You see, the intriguing part of all of this, pastor, is that Master Felt, to my knowledge, was not married. He has been living at the palace for the past decade and I know this because I captured him originally. He is Vested.”
Kilt’s stomach did a flip. “Really? I had no idea,” he lied calmly.
“Yes, Vested and working indirectly for the emperor.”
Kilt feigned being impressed. “I’m most upset she’s told her family none of this. But I still don’t understand why.”
“We’re hunting her husband in connection with a possible murder.”
“I told Master Vulpan that’s ridiculous.”
“How would you know if you haven’t seen your sister in many anni and don’t even know who her husband is?”
He was right. Kilt had to talk quickly. “It’s just too unbelievable,” he blustered, “but irrespective of what he may or may not have done, why am I being held against my will?”
“Ah, well, that’s another story. You are Vested, yes?”
Kilt nodded, unsure of this path. “Nothing spectacular, I can assure you.”
“What is it you can do, Pastor Jeves?”
“A helpful but rather tedious skill of being able to gauge weather. I can tell you when the rains are coming, for instance.”
“My knees can tell me that, pastor.”
Kilt forced a smile as he shrugged. “I rest my case, general. My skill is dull, irrelevant and practically pointless…unless you’re a farmer.”
“Except Shorgan assures me that you possess very potent power,” Vulpan chipped in.
Kilt laughed. “Then I’d like to see proof of it. What is it that I’m supposed to be able to do?”
Vulpan shook his head. “That’s just it. We don’t know. But we intend to find out,” the general added. “You can come with us to the north.”
“North?”
“Francham,” Stracker added. “Then we’ll be sending you on to a special place in the Dragonsback Mountains.”
“Wait! Absolutely not! I am going in search of my sister.”
“We’ll find her,” Stracker said with a tight, sinister smile. “I hear she’s pretty. The men will enjoy escorting her back to Brighthelm, where Vulpan suspects the emperor would like to know of her talents.”
Kilt ignored Stracker’s threat. “Why Francham?” he asked, knowing he was a dead man if they escorted him there.
“That’s where we believe a man called Master Freath was murdered. Your sister’s husband knows something, if not about his murder, then certainly his movements. We know they ate together on the evening of his death.”
“But this has nothing to do with me!”
“I didn’t say it did,” Stracker said, leaning close to Kilt’s face. “But your magic does and we want to know what that part of you is all about. Don’t fret, we’ll certainly re unite you with your sister soon enough.” He looked at Vulpan. “We leave at light’s break. Get organized.”
Twenty-Seven
Gavriel sat beside the stream and stared at the silent Elka. They had ridden for what was left of the day and finally they had stopped to water the horses. He had talked for the entire journey, a torrent of information spilling from his memories.
The pause felt brittle and filled with hurt. “Talk to me, Elka, say something.”
“What can I say?” she said mournfully, not looking at him. “You’re a noble. Attached to royalty. Our lives feel suddenly so far apart.” Gavriel gave a pained expression. “You were escorting the young king when I interfered, for Lo’s sake!”
“If you hadn’t, I’d probably have died.”
She shook her head. “They would have killed you long before if that had been their intention.”
“Then Loethar would have killed me. Freath would have t
old him who I was and then…” He made a slashing sign across his throat.
“So why go back now? Why risk it?”
“Surely you don’t have to ask me that?”
“How do you know he’s even alive?”
“Because he was with Kilt Faris. Leo will now be twenty-two anni.” Gavriel shook his head. “How incredible. He’s a man; probably drinks Rough and enjoys a tumble with a girl.”
Elka regarded him. “You sound envious.”
His gaze snapped up. “Do I?” At her nod, he explained, “I don’t mean to but…well, what’s past is past.”
“I think now that you know what you’ve missed, you want it back…your old life, I mean.”
Gavriel shook his head. “I haven’t had enough time since learning who I truly am to think about what I’ve missed. And the life I was living when you found me was one filled with trauma and danger. There was nothing enviable about it; nothing about it that I’d want to return to. But it’s the people who matter, Elka. I have a brother, my twin. And he disappeared. I’m going to find him. And I’m going to find Leo.”
“And help him claim the throne?”
“What ever makes you say that? Ten anni ago all I was doing was following my king’s orders and protecting the heir, who became sovereign during that time. When I was injured, King Brennus had only been dead for days. A decade on, Loethar has carved out his empire. The Valisars are a memory now.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t think you truly believe that.”
He shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
“I believe that all you’ve learned today has re-ignited you. You even sound different, Regor, you—”
“My father’s name was Regor. I suppose in my confused state the name came to me. But my name is Gavriel. I would be known by that name from now on.”
She nodded and he could see grief in her face. “So, where does this leave us?”
“Us?”
“You are part of my family.”
He considered taking her hand but thought better of it. “I will miss them all more than you can imagine.”
“I see,” she said, her resigned expression telling him he didn’t need to say more. She found a small smile and stood. “I’ve always said I prefer traveling at night. I might be on my way, then.”
“Elka, wait!” he said, getting to his feet. “Don’t rush away.”
“Gavriel,” she began, her mouth twisting into a rueful grimace. “That name sounds strange,” she admitted. “And you are a stranger to me now. It’s best I return to the mountains. Perhaps you’ll visit.” She moved to her horse. “Come on, see me away. Let’s not drag this out.”
“Why do you have to go?”
“Because you do. And I don’t belong where you’re going. Our paths crossed accidentally and the Abbess is right, I must let you return to your people and your life.”
“I’m not returning to anything. Everyone’s gone. But I have to try and find Corbel, find Leo, make some sense of what occurred, find some peace. Will you ride with me a few more days?”
“What’s the point?”
“Because we’re friends,” he said quietly. At her wince, he moved toward her and was surprised when he hugged her; was even more surprised that she let him. “Elka, I do wish I could look you in the eye as I do this,” he admitted with exasperation.
She impressed him by laughing but he could hear her sorrow. She pushed him away and he understood. “I just want you to know that I love you, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero and my protector—and not just because you’re so much bigger than me,” he said. She laughed again, tears misting briefly in her eyes. He continued, “That will never change. We will always be best friends. Love of the romantic kind can be fickle; love of the friendship kind rarely is.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes and punched him lightly. As he staggered backward, she asked, “When did you become a philosopher?”
Gavriel was grimacing, breathing out. “Oof! That hurt!”
“Pathetic,” she sneered, not unkindly.
He was relieved and glad that the emotion she had permitted him to glimpse in its rawness was now smothered again, and her strength—the aspect of her he admired so much—was back in control. “Stay a while longer,” he begged. “We’ll part tomorow, or another morning. It will be so much easier.”
“Why?”
“Because your breath is bad in the morning,” he quipped, raising his hands in defense when he saw her make a fist. “I jest, I promise. Your breath is in fact like the fresh dew of the morning.”
“Not that you would know!” she parried back. “Fresh dew of the morning? My arse.” She pushed him gently and once again he staggered.
“You’ve got to stop manhandling me, my sweet. I’m no match for you. Stay, Elka. One night. We’ll talk about all the good times and part in good spirits.”
She didn’t look convinced but she sighed and nodded. “I hope you plan to cook me something.”
“Rabbit coming right up, my lady,” he said, bowing. “Just let me get my bow.”
“Get on with it, then. I’ll build a fire.”
He gave her a soft smile and winked. “Thanks, Elka.”
“Hurry up!” she said, trying to snarl. “I’m famished.”
“And when you say you could eat a horse, I think you really could,” he said, just managing to dodge the small branch she hurled at him.
Loethar had said farewell to no one. There was no one, after all, to care about. His daughter had died, as predicted by the physic, and he had not even seen her. Valya had sent so many messages since the birth that he had stopped admitting the messengers, flicking his hand irritably at them and sending them away before a word was exchanged.
Valya had murdered his mother. He didn’t need proof. His instincts told him enough.
And now he was fulfilling the final act that was expected of him as a member of his family. He had already changed horses twice. He would be at Woodingdene by mid-morning if he kept this pace up.
He dug his heels into the horse to urge it faster. He had stolen out of the palace in the dead of night, not even waking the stablehands when he’d led the nearest horse out of its stall. With only the help of Roland, now his conspirator, he had disguised himself and left anonymously through one of the side gates, just another of the many visitors and dignatories making his weary exit. Roland had kept the sleepy guards in conversation; had almost half-heartedly waved goodbye to the bearded Master Frank, whose large hat and cape covered his identity further. Before he knew it, Loethar had slipped the castle perimeter and was moving through the city streets, the mourning bells sounding for his mother.
He didn’t care that it would appear strange that he would not be present in the city to take the inevitable flow of commiserations. Perhaps the death of his daughter would suggest to many that the family did not want to be seen publicly. That excuse was fine with him. Once he had cleared the city’s perimeter he had hit a gallop that he had maintained since.
What would he say to Stracker? Stracker would want to kill Valya with his bare hands, and there was nothing to be gained from that, and, further, such an act would only enrage Droste. He needed nothing to prompt unrest just now. Banishing Valya to the convent had been the safest response, and he hoped Valya had taken his advice and fled as fast as she could. Once their initial grief was shared and done with, Loethar knew the tenuous relationship he had with Stracker would change irrevocably. His mother had warned as much. As long as I’m alive, she had counseled. Now she was dead. He should heed her advice.
Deep inside, Loethar knew it was madness to be out and alone and so vulnerable like this. Stracker might take this opportunity to end his half-brother’s life. Loethar could beat Stracker in hand-to-hand combat, he was sure, but Stracker rarely traveled alone. Even if the tribes stayed loyal to their figurehead ruler, Stracker would have his Greens and enough angry men in that clan to do his bidding.
Frowning, Loethar ignored the vo
ices of warning. He had to do this to fulfill his code of honor. Stracker was currently traveling alone. Perhaps he could get through these formalities and then escape, riding swiftly back to the Brighthelm stronghold before Stracker’s slower mind began to consider overthrow. And when it did, he could confront Stracker on his own terms. Now that their mother was dead, Loethar would have little compunction about killing his half-brother if he was forced to.
“We shall see,” he said into the wind. “Hah!” he bellowed, urging the horse still faster. Dawn was approaching.
They had watched with anguish as Stracker had re-emerged, this time with Vulpan, a strange-looking man with vicious purple-colored tatua, and Kilt, flanked by several guards.
“Oh, Lo, you’re right. They’re taking him somewhere, Jewd. He hasn’t been able to talk himself out of it.”
“Be still, Leo. If they wanted to execute him, he’d already be dead. They’re obviously still interested enough in him that they’re taking him with them. Let’s follow them. I need to get an idea of where they’re headed and I need some time to think.”
“Where do you imagine they’ll go?”
“My gut tells me Francham. I don’t think Stracker’s sudden arrival is coincidence. I think he’s here because of Freath.”
“But Kilt—”
“Kilt’s presence here is coincidence, and bad timing on his part. He’s being haplessly caught up in something and we just have to pray that Stracker doesn’t make any connection between him and Freath.”
“But what if he already knows?”
“He can’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” Leo demanded, slamming down his near empty mug of dinch.
“Easy, Leo. We don’t want any attention. If you recognize Stracker, I can’t be sure he won’t recognize you.”
“I assure you, he won’t.”
“Even so, be still until they’ve gone.”
“How can you be sure he doesn’t know about Freath?” Leo repeated.
Jewd sighed and drained his mug. “Because if they’d seen through his disguise, he would be looking a lot less like a pastor than he still does. I don’t think they’ve put him together with Freath. But I do think they want him and that’s what’s got me baffled.”
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